


Someday We'll Go All the Way

by Lady_in_Red



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-02-04 21:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12779442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_in_Red/pseuds/Lady_in_Red
Summary: Ginny flies to Cleveland to watch Mike play in Game 7 of the 2016 World Series.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When Oscar told Charlie that baseball fans are sentimental and have long memories, [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iQWbKqFVoeQ) is what he meant. Title from “All the Way” by Pearl Jam’s Eddie Vedder, a lifelong Cubs fan.

_ November 2, 2016: Progressive Field, Cleveland, Ohio _

  
Ginny had been standing for what seemed like hours. Her voice was shot from yelling, her hands folded in front of her face as if in prayer during every at-bat. She had spent her entire life immersed in this game, living and breathing baseball every day for as long as she could remember. And yet none of that had prepared her for this night, for how much she wanted this victory, and how completely helpless she felt standing among the spectators watching. 

Game 7, 9 innings complete, tie game. And as the rain came down harder, the grounds crew pulled out the tarps. Closer to the field, fans remained in their seats, bundled in their jackets. No one was leaving.   

“Rain delay? Come on,” a woman in her row groaned, tossing her a commiserating glance. Ginny couldn’t remember the woman’s name even though they’d been introduced earlier, but it didn’t matter. She’d never met any of these people before she arrived at Progressive Field tonight, yet the Cubs’ WAGs and assorted friends and family had adopted her without question. 

One of them, a petite bottle blonde in a bright blue fur coat, had walked right up to her and introduced her around before the game. “Have you met Lawson’s Ginny yet?” she asked each group. Not his teammate, not his friend, just his, like the single (long, scorching, unbelievably sweet) kiss they’d shared had left its mark on her. 

By the ninth inning, she had settled in beside someone’s dad, who was happy to dissect every play in excruciating detail with her. He glanced over at her and shrugged. “Stops their momentum.” 

Ginny agreed. “Bullpen could use a rest.” The Cubs bullpen was wiped out, really. Nervous energy kept her on her feet even though they ached. Most of the WAGs were seated. They’d been through this many times before, though not with this much on the line. She and the dad (Rizzo’s, maybe?) talked about Baez’s failed bunt for a few minutes, both needing the distraction. Ginny didn’t know these guys beyond the one series she’d played against them, but she knew Mike. He’d be dying that he hadn’t played yet tonight. 

“They’re having a team meeting,” one of the other women announced. Young, pretty, maybe Bryant’s fiancee? She held up her phone, Joe Buck and John Smoltz talking on her screen. “Lawson pulled them into the weight room.”

All eyes went straight to Ginny, who read the question in their eyes easily. She shrugged. “He gives great speeches, but they might just need a few minutes to focus.”

No one seemed encouraged by her answer, but they were quickly distracted. “Ginny, they’re talking about you.” The woman held up her phone so Ginny could see herself. 

Damn, there she was, apparently on millions of television screens. Exactly why she’d nearly refused Mike’s offer of a game ticket, until Blip gently reminded her that Mike wanted her here, win or lose, and had no family to invite if she said no. His mother wasn’t really in the picture, Ginny knew, and Mike never spoke of his father. Blip had gone to Game 5, when Mike homered and they’d stayed up half the night celebrating with the team. 

Ginny nervously checked that her jacket was fully zipped. A bright blue Nike jacket Oscar couldn’t object to, hiding a Lawson Cubs jersey she absolutely could not be photographed in. 

The WAGs clustered around the phone, listening to the analysts talking, chatting amongst themselves. 

Ginny finally dropped into her seat and fished her phone out of her pocket. The Padres group text had grown by 64 messages since she’d checked it last several innings ago. A string of texts from Ev was filled with emojis and reaction gifs that Ginny assumed had made sense at the time she’d sent them. Eliot had sent a summary of her (many) social media mentions. Apparently LeBron James had invited her up to the suite where he and the rest of the Cavaliers were watching the game. 

A heavy sigh from several seats away caught her attention. “They’re still meeting.” The WAGs were starting to look worried. 

Ginny glanced at the field. The tarp was still down, rain dripped steadily off the edge of the overhang in front of them. She’d been playing too long not to feel the time passing, each second ticking away. The guys waiting to bat would be antsy as hell, the few remaining pitchers alternately glad for the rest and trying to stay warm. A short break might be a blessing. A long one could go either way. 

Mike’s speeches could go either way too. She’d seen him browbeat his players, seen him lose his cool. But she’d also seen him pick up his guys and set them back on their feet, fill their heads with certainty that the game was theirs for the taking. He’d been the heart of their team, not just their captain. The Padres clubhouse without Mike had been strange and quiet in those last few weeks of the season. Ginny had only made one start after he left, and Oscar had pulled her after five innings, irritating both her and Al. Some crap about her screwgie throwing off her pitch count.

Ginny could have used the distraction. Without prepping for games, she spent too much time watching Mike’s highlights. When the playoffs started and the Padres dispersed to their winter homes, Ginny watched every Cubs game. It was strange to see Mike crouched behind home plate in pinstripes or Cubbie blue, throwing signals to Arrieta and Lester. She’d seen the cocky glint in his eyes through his catcher’s mask when he exchanged words with the Dodgers’ and Giants’ batters, players he’d studied all season and knew like the back of his hand. The Cubs couldn’t have chosen any better when they added Mike to their line-up.

During those long weeks of October, Ginny had spent many evenings on the phone with him, going over the batters, talking strategy before he prepped his pitchers. But she hadn’t visited him, not even when he was in L.A. Mike didn’t need the distraction, and Ginny was still worried that the spark she’d felt between them was only because he’d been leaving. In the middle of the playoffs was not the time to sort out her feelings for him.

A sharp tug on Ginny’s sleeve got her attention. “They’re rolling up the tarp.” 

Ginny’s eyes snapped back to the field. The rain had slowed to a sprinkle and the crew was coming back out. Thank God. Silence fell among the Cubs WAGs as everyone turned their attention back to the field. 

If anything, the top of the tenth was even more tense. Ginny wanted to pace but there was no room so she rocked side to side on her feet, her hands pressed together in front of her mouth, muttering encouragement and fervent prayers as Schwarber, Bryant, and Zobrist’s combined efforts drove in a run. And then the Indians walked Addison Russell, the second intentional walk of the inning, leaving the bases loaded. Ginny knew exactly how the pitcher felt, the game and the series balanced on his shoulders, the crowd noise impossible to tune out, but her sympathy extended only so far.

And then she saw Mike walking out onto the field, bat in hand. Finally. She grinned, remembered the cameras and tried to bite it back, but couldn’t. She had a moment of disorientation, the wrongness of Mike in a Cubs uniform hitting her all over again, then it faded. He tapped the bat against his hand as he walked to the batter’s box, then tapped the bat against the plate, the same routine she’d seen a hundred times before. 

The same routine he’d followed, four to five times every game, 162 games a year, for sixteen years. And all of it to bring him here, tonight, to this one at-bat. He looked focused, determined, and just before Shaw threw the pitch, she’d swear Mike winked at him. God, he was a cocky bastard.

A cocky bastard who watched the first pitch sail by. Ball one. 

An earthquake could level Cleveland, Lake Erie could rise up and flood the ballpark, and Ginny still wouldn’t be able to take her eyes off Mike Lawson at home plate.

He swung, the crack of the bat echoing just before the crowd roared, and Mike took off for first base as the ball went flying into left field. Ben Zobrist was already sprinting for home, and another run scored as Mike arrived safely at first. 

The WAGs, and the Chicago-heavy crowd, cheered. They stopped when the top of the inning ended without the Cubs scoring again, taking a two-run lead into the bottom of the tenth.

Ginny couldn’t decide if she envied or pitied Carl Edwards, Jr., 25 years old and holding the Cubs’ World Series chances in his glove as he walked up to the mound. The dial moved firmly to pity when Edwards let Brandon Guyer score and the Cubs skipper pulled him in favor of Mike Montgomery, Ginny’s counterpart on the Cubs as their fifth starter.

Just one out. That’s all they needed. The whole stadium seemed to hold its breath, both sides betting everything on the battle taking place between this pitcher and this batter. Ginny winced at the crack of the ball against the bat, held her breath as the ball went sailing toward left field, landed in Bryant’s glove, and whipped over to Rizzo at first base before the runner reached him.

Game over. The stadium exploded, the guys on the field leapt into each other’s arms. Ginny was high-fived and hugged and she could feel her phone vibrating wildly in her pocket. But her eyes never left the field, watching Mike flip off his mask and run toward the pitcher’s mound. He and Montgomery hugged, the pitcher’s hat flying off as another player tackled him from behind.

Ginny lost him in a sea of blue jerseys, and a hand clapped her on the back. She finally looked around her, the Cubs’ friends and family around her not the only ones openly crying, W flags held up proudly, and cheering so loud it echoed through the stadium. The sign above the scoreboard now showing the end of the Cubs’ 108-year drought might have said Progressive Field, but it felt like the Friendly Confines had picked up and moved east for the night as the crowd started to sing “Go Cubs Go.” 

God, what she wouldn’t give to be down there with him, what she wouldn’t give for him to be back in Padres colors, celebrating with Blip and the guys around them. But that hadn’t been in the cards, and Mike had to play the hand he was dealt. Their teammates acting like jilted ex-girlfriends was more than a little ridiculous.

After a few minutes, Ginny felt another tug on her arm. “We’re going down to the field,” one of the WAGS told her, leaning close to be heard over the commotion. 

“I can’t go,” Ginny said with real regret. “Would you tell Lawson how proud I am of him?” 

The woman’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Of course you should come with us. Why can’t you?” she sounded indignant on Ginny’s behalf, or maybe on Mike’s behalf. 

“My GM forbid it. Said it wouldn’t look right.” That was the one thing Oscar had put his foot down about, even after Al argued that it was harmless. “It’s fine. He’ll be so busy he won’t even miss me.”

The woman shook her head. “You’re kidding, right? That’s ridiculous.” She paused. “If you really can’t come with us, ask one of the security guys to escort you down to the clubhouse. You can wait in the hall. I’ll make sure Lawson knows you’re there.” 

Ginny hesitated, and the woman patted her arm. “You came all this way, I’m sure Lawson wants to see you. Besides, you’ll need security to get out of the ballpark anyway.” 

“Okay, thank you,” Ginny conceded, allowing herself to fall in with the group. Security flanked them as they left the seats, and when they’d made their way down into the bowels of the ballpark, a security guard tapped her on the shoulder and gestured toward a door. Ginny waved to the woman who’d helped her and stepped through while the others continued out to the field. 

Ginny followed the guard through the quiet corridor, noise from above muffled by tons of concrete. She dug her phone out of her pocket and typed out a text as they walked, not sure if she should be seen with Mike tonight. There were bound to be reporters waiting outside the clubhouse. Evelyn, of course, replied in all-caps that of course she should see him, why else had she flown halfway across the country?

To watch him fulfill the dream of every Little Leaguer, the dream every player holds close at the start of each season. 

They moved quickly, and before long they arrived outside the visitors’ clubhouse, which was humming with activity. She’d seen enough of these post-game celebrations on TV to know that friends and family wouldn’t be allowed in the clubhouse, which was even now being prepped and covered with plastic sheeting. Two vendors rolled past with carts full of Budweiser cans and bottles of champagne. Most of it would end up sprayed on the players rather than drunk. No one wanted to be the slurring idiot in the post-game pressers.

She watched for a few minutes, reminded how many people were involved behind the scenes and everything that happened when the players were on the field. Soon enough the reporters started to mass a short distance down the hall, but security kept them away from her. Ginny pulled out her phone again and opened the Fox Sports app so she could watch what was happening on the field. 

Mike was being interviewed. As usual, he was well-spoken and knowledgeable, but he couldn’t stop grinning, a World Series champs hat pulled down crookedly over his dark hair and a T-shirt pulled awkwardly over his jersey. Around him, his teammates held babies, hugged their wives, talked and laughed and celebrated. The television feed switched over to the MVP presentation, Kris Bryant holding the trophy up to the crowd. 

Ginny leaned against the wall and kept watching. She’d faced the Cubs in one series, but she knew them better from Mike talking about them. She knew which guys needed a little humbling and which guys had paid their dues. He’d never really felt like part of the team, through no fault of his teammates. They’d tried, but Mike just never felt right in Chicago. He hadn’t even gotten an apartment, preferring to stay in a hotel. 

The talking heads on screen didn’t mention when the team left the field. Ginny only realized they must have when Bill Murray and Eddie Vedder slipped through security and into the clubhouse. Both did a double take when they saw her. The cameraman with Murray tried to get a shot of her and Ginny turned away. 

This was why she couldn’t be on the field. She was a distraction, and she didn’t want to add to the gossip or speculation her presence at the game would have started. Were she and her former captain that close or was Ginny Baker looking to make a move? Ginny didn’t want to address either with the press. She put away her phone. She knew what was going on in there. Someday she’d experience it firsthand, with the Padres.

Minutes ticked past, and reporters came and went from the clubhouse. Every time the door opened, she heard the guys hollering and laughing. A cameraman emerged covered in a dripping poncho, shaking his head at the team’s antics. Maybe Mike didn’t know she was here. Maybe he’d rather spend this time with the team. Suddenly she felt stupid for waiting. 

She turned away from the clubhouse door and pulled up her last text exchange with Mike before she got on the plane this morning.  _ You were amazing. Heading back to my hotel. Breakfast tomorrow? _ she typed. That could be misinterpreted if someone saw it, she knew, but sent it anyway.

“Ginny, can we get a minute with you?” she heard a reporter call from behind the security guard blocking the hallway. 

She shook her head and turned back, hoping the other end of the hall might provide a way to escape the press. 

And the clubhouse door opened, Mike’s sodden clothes and shoes leaving a puddle on the floor as he stepped out. His uniform clung wetly to his body, his beard dripped, and he absolutely stank of champagne and cheap beer. He had goggle marks around his eyes and a World Series cap backward on his head. His phone was clutched in his hand, and as he looked up and saw her, his face lit up. 

“Rookie,” Mike said roughly, and Ginny wanted to run to him, to throw herself into his arms. 

“Old man,” she answered with a little chin tilt, that nod of acknowledgment that first made Ginny feel like part of the team and eventually became something just between the two of them. It took all her restraint to approach and stop without touching him. The cameras flashed behind her anyway.

“I got my damn ring,” he said with a laugh. His fingers twitched toward her, but he held back. With any other teammate, Lawson would have given one of those one-armed man hugs. She’d have been covered in booze and damp just like him, and she wouldn’t have cared one bit. 

Instead Ginny soaked up the brilliance of his smile, and the light in his eyes. Mike had earned this. “Did you? I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Right,” he teased back. “Who can stay awake for extra innings?” His eyes darted to the press, the cameras trained on them. 

Ginny’s smile dimmed. She hated knowing they were being watched, hated feeling like she couldn’t even touch him right now.  

Mike lowered his voice. “Can I see you? Later?”  

“Don’t you have team things to do?” She kept her voice down too, wishing there was a little more activity in this hallway to cover their conversation.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled again, biting his lip. “Team things?” Mike shrugged. “Probably. Where are you staying?”

She named the hotel where the Cubs were staying. “I’m flying back in the morning.”

Mike nodded. “Me too.” His eyes cut to the reporters again. “Text me your room number.”

“Why?”

Mike laughed and shook his head as if she’d said something funny. “I want to see you, Gin. Without the cameras.”

She wanted to see him too. Touch him. Find out if what they’d started in San Diego was still there. “Okay.”

Mike nodded once and backed toward the clubhouse door. Loudly enough for the reporters to hear, he called to her, “Tell the guys they owe me a couple rounds when I get back into town.” 

She laughed despite the butterflies in her stomach. “Are you kidding, old man? You got your ring. You’re buying.” 

Mike shook his head a little as he opened the door and dove back into the celebration, still going strong if the volume of the hooting and hollering inside was any indication.   

Ginny turned and plowed through the reporters, deflecting their questions with a quick, “This isn’t my night.” She had less success escaping when she reached the public corridors. Fans started recognizing her almost immediately, and she had to sign at least 20 autographs and pose for some photos before a security guard found her and insisted that “Mr. James” wanted a moment of her time in his suite. Half an hour of awkward conversation and a few photos for social media later, Ginny finally escaped the ballpark. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

A noise roused Ginny from a fitful sleep. People had been running up and down the hall all night, likely celebrating or drinking away their sadness, and the doors didn’t keep out much of the noise. 

This time, though, the noise was a hesitant knock on the door.

Ginny dragged herself off the bed and ran a hand through her messy curls. The clock on the nightstand read 3:21 a.m. as she stumbled to the door and cracked it open.

Mike had changed out of his wet uniform and into well-fitted jeans and a button-down shirt. From his damp hair and woodsy scent she could tell he’d showered, and he held a bottle of champagne in one hand. He looked downright edible, and that left her more than a little tongue-tied.

“Hey,” she finally managed, her voice husky with sleep and interrupted by a yawn. 

“Can I come in?” he asked, his lips quirked in amusement. 

“Sorry.” Ginny stepped aside and Mike brushed past her, his arm grazing hers. She suppressed a shiver. At the ballpark, she’d been fine. Even stuck outside the clubhouse, the ballpark was familiar territory. She knew how to handle him there.

Mike Lawson in her hotel room was an entirely different animal. 

Ginny flicked the light switch, illuminating the room, and locked the door behind him. An old habit. A few times she’d overslept on road trips and been woken by a teammate barging into her room with a spare key. This room was nothing special, fairly small in fact, but luckily the front desk clerk she’d called was a fan otherwise she wouldn’t have found a room at all.

“I thought we could have a drink,” Mike said, gesturing toward her with the bottle. “But it’s late. I should just let you sleep.” 

“I’m awake now. I don’t have fancy glasses, but I think we can deal.” That was an expensive bottle of champagne, not the stuff Ginny had seen going into the clubhouse. She crossed the room to the mini-fridge, hoping the cupboard next to it might hold cups. 

As she bent down to rummage through the cupboard, Ginny could feel Mike watching her. She’d showered earlier and changed into leggings and a tight Padres tee. Maybe she should have packed the sexy bra and panty set Ginny had bought on a whim and Evelyn had tried to sneak into her bag. Not that she planned to show Mike her underwear. Not that she'd thought of him when she bought it. 

No, they were going to talk about the game and drink champagne out of coffee mugs, since that was all Ginny could find. She took them into the bathroom to rinse the dust off. 

When she came back, Mike had set the bottle down on the dresser and was holding the jersey she’d worn earlier. “Where did you get this?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly. “I didn’t think they made any.”

Ginny shrugged and set the damp mugs down beside the bottle. “They didn’t. I had one made custom.” MLBshop.com would make almost any jersey combination you wanted, as long as it wasn’t profane.

A smug little smirk peeked out of his beard. “Really?” 

“Don’t make a big deal out of it, Lawson,” she huffed, embarrassed. “Nobody even saw it.” Except the pizza delivery kid she’d paid off to keep quiet about it, but that was only once, when she’d forgotten she was wearing it and answered the door.

Mike cocked his head, eyes narrowing. “Then why wear it?”

Ginny’s face heated, but she tried to shrug it off. “For you.” When she’d ordered it, early in the playoffs, she’d been a little buzzed from drinking wine with Evelyn and allowed herself to fantasize about wearing that jersey for him with nothing underneath it.

Mike’s long, calloused fingers ran over the letters of his last name, then he dropped the jersey on her open suitcase. “I’m retiring,” he said softly, and turned his hazel eyes on her. He looked tired. Not just post-game tired, but the bone-deep weariness Ginny recognized from her years in the minors, the nights when the season felt endless and all that mattered was surviving until the last game. 

“Are you sure? There must be something you can do.” Mike had been fighting retirement for years, long before they even met, but somehow Ginny had expected him to find his way back to the Padres before the end came. 

“I’ve seen every orthopedic surgeon in Southern California and Chicago, Baker. It’s time.” For once he seemed at peace with that. 

If Lawson had finally come to terms with retirement, Ginny wouldn’t make him question his decision, no matter how much she wished he could catch for her one more time. “You’ll have more time for golf,” she teased. Banter was easy. They were good at it. The trouble came when they disagreed, when they had to make hard calls. That led to arguments, to saying things she regretted, to bruised feelings and uncomfortable silences.

Mike laughed at her joke, and she loved the way his eyes almost disappeared, his cheeks round and pink. She’d missed that laugh, that smile, the cocky charm that made women throw themselves at him. She’d done it too, but only once. And ever since, Mike had been more affectionate, even flirty, but he’d never stepped back over the line they’d so briefly crossed. She couldn’t tell if he was just lonely in Illinois or if he was waiting for the right moment to make his move.

“We should celebrate. Maybe not spray the room with champagne, though.” Ginny picked up the bottle and studied it. She’d never actually opened a bottle of champagne. Ballplayers were far too superstitious to make a habit of drinking it. 

“Ginny.” 

She looked up, found him watching her intently. “What?”

“I don’t need the drink.”

“You don’t?” 

He shook his head. “I just wanted to see you.” 

“You didn’t need an excuse, Lawson.” That was ridiculous. Or maybe he was just as confused about them as she was. 

Mike smiled a little sheepishly. “Then come here.” A request, not a demand, and the relief that flooded Ginny would have embarrassed her at any other time. 

She closed the distance between them, let Mike fold her into his arms. One hand spanned her lower back, the other arm circled her shoulders. The solid heat of him surrounded her, and her nerves began to settle.

He spoke softly into her hair. “I wanted to do this earlier. Hell, I wanted to do it on the field. I missed you out there.” 

“I wanted to be there,” Ginny admitted. Her words were muffled against the warm skin of his throat, his beard tickling her forehead. He smelled even better up close.  

He sighed. “I kept looking for you. It took KB’s girl a while to find me and explain.”

Ginny hadn’t wanted to jinx him, talking about it before the game. Now she wished she had. 

“I’m here now.” She could feel his pulse under her lips, feel the rise and fall of his chest against hers as he breathed. They’d held each other like this only once before, but it felt instantly familiar.

He pulled back slightly, keeping Ginny in the circle of his arms but looking down into her eyes. “I wanted to do this, too.” Mike’s lips brushed across hers, light and sweet.

What his kiss did to her was anything but sweet. Ginny could feel her own pulse, fast and strong, in her throat, in her chest, between her legs. She wanted more.

Mike stayed close, his breath fanning across her lips. “We should talk.” 

“All we do is talk.” Now that she’d tasted it again, that mouth was too tempting. She wrapped a hand around his nape and held him so she could kiss him again, a brief but firmer taste of his full lips. He tasted like mint. In the clubhouse he would have tasted of champagne, and on the field like bubblegum. 

Mike swallowed hard, his hand flexing on her hip. “Baker, this could get complicated.”

“No, it was complicated when you were my captain.” She tightened her arms around him. “If you’re not playing anymore…” She kissed him again, leaning into Mike’s hard chest and trusting him to hold her. If there was anyone she could let loose with, it was Mike. He would never sell her out to the press or lie to her about his intentions. 

And Mike Lawson could kiss. She touched her tongue to his lips, gasped when he opened his mouth and deepened the kiss from sweet and tender to hot and possessive in a heartbeat. She didn’t even mind the beard brushing against her chin and jaw. All thoughts of going slow, of talking about the game or where they went from here vanished. Lawson wasn’t a voice on the phone now. She wanted his rough, capable hands, his broad chest and thick thighs, his deep, gruff voice telling her exactly what he was going to do to her and what he wanted her to do. She wanted him inside her.

Mike groaned as she ran one hand down his back to his ass. His long, hard cock pressed insistently against her belly. “Rookie, I am way too old for you.”

She rolled her eyes. He might be retiring but he wasn’t even 40 yet. “Please, you’ve been with plenty of women younger than me.”

Mike pulled back again, his hands dropping to circle her waist. His eyes were dark and his smile gone. “For one night. Is that all you want?” 

One night wouldn’t be nearly enough to do everything she’d thought about doing with Mike Lawson, but she could live with it. She’d rub up against him, slip one hand up his shirt, another working his belt buckle, and in a few minutes they’d be in bed. She opened her mouth to tell him that was all she wanted, but that was a lie. There was nothing casual about this. 

Ginny shook her head. 

Mike bent his head to kiss her again, a slow, thorough exploration. His hands drifted up her sides and stopped just beneath her braless breasts, his thumbs caressing the sensitive lower curve through her thin t-shirt. “You sure about this, Baker?”

He wasn't playing fair, teasing her like this. She squeezed his ass, hard, and dipped a hand under his shirt, her fingertips grazing his abs and making them jump. “I'm not gonna beg, Lawson.” 

His smile was wicked. His hands slid up to fully cup her breasts, his thumbs finding her nipples. “That sounds like a challenge.”

A sharp gasp escaped her, and he smothered it with a deep kiss, deliciously dirty. They were wearing too many clothes. Ginny started unbuttoning his shirt from the bottom, her fingers shaking and fumbling as she moved up his stomach toward his chest. 

Mike brushed her hands away, his hands falling to the hem of her shirt while his lips descended to the side of her neck. His soft lips, warm, wet tongue, and the rasp of his beard over her damp skin made Ginny shiver. 

“I want to see you first,” Mike growled, nipping her throat while he dragged her shirt up until Ginny raised her arms over her head. 

Her shirt slipped over her head, the cool air of the room raising goosebumps on her naked chest before Mike’s head dipped to capture one nipple in his hot mouth. She felt dizzy, pleasure arcing from her breast down between her legs, his beard brushing over her breast as he licked and suckled her. And then his hand was between her legs, dragging his fingertips over her until she arched to get closer to him. She was already soaked through her panties, maybe the leggings too. 

“Mike,” she breathed, protesting or pleading, she wasn't even sure. 

He released her breast, dropping a soft kiss on the upper swell as he straightened. The hand between her legs pulled away. The smooth fabric of his shirt against her hard, damp nipples made her shiver again, and she went back to unbuttoning his shirt. Mike just watched, his hands splayed across her lower back. An underappreciated spot, few guys ever bothered to touch her there. Trevor had enjoyed making her squirm, licking the small of her back or stroking his fingertips there while she rode him. 

The man in front of her wasn’t Trevor, thank God. Mike Lawson was taller and broader, his smiles were often smirks, and the wrinkles settling into the corners of his eyes betrayed his long years in the sun. She’d missed his face so much.

Their harsh breathing was the only sound in the room, and Ginny’s hands faltered on the last button. They were really doing this, after months of anticipation and fantasies. What if it was bad? Ginny bit her lip and tried to shove that thought out of her mind. She didn’t know any fancy tricks or acrobatic positions. She’d only been with a few guys, and just one of them more than a couple of times. The road had been lonely for her, unlike Mike, who’d probably had every sex act known to man performed on him more than once. 

“I keep expecting to wake up,” he said softly, and Ginny looked up into eyes that she knew from experience were flecked with amber and green and brown. Right now they were dark, dilated with arousal. His lips were damp and a little swollen, his cheeks flushed above the dark expanse of his beard. He looked as wrecked as she felt. “Because this has got to be a dream, right? I won the goddamn World Series, and Ginny fucking Baker is undressing me.”

Ginny laughed, and the tension was broken. “Ginny fucking Baker?” She released the last button and peeled his shirt away, letting it drop to the floor behind them. 

Mike grinned shyly. “Seemed like we were headed that way.”

She ran her hands across his chest, watching her darker hands moving across the pale, freckled expanse of hard muscles, the sparse hairs crisp under her palms. Down to his abs, softer and less defined but still strong. Her fingers hooked in the waistband of his jeans, and she looked up at him. “In my dreams,  _ I _ win the Series, and this big grumpy teddy bear of a catcher comes to my room afterward.”

Mike’s eyebrow went up. “Teddy bear?” he grumbled. He pushed her back with one hand until Ginny’s thighs hit the edge of the bed. Another gentle push and she lay back on the bed. 

Ginny tried to scoot back so her legs weren’t dangling off the edge but Mike grabbed her ankle and stopped her. He reached up and dragged her leggings down, leaving her panties in place. Of course, because she put on boring, cream-colored panties earlier. Her heart was pounding, and she desperately wanted to close her legs. He must see the obvious wet spot where he’d been stroking her.

Mike reached down a little awkwardly and took off his shoes and socks. He watched her intently as he unbuttoned his jeans, carefully unzipped, and then pushed his jeans down to puddle on the floor. His black boxer-briefs did nothing to conceal the heavy length of his cock straining against the cotton. 

Ginny’s mouth watered. She’d heard the stories in the clubhouse. Evelyn might joke that half of San Diego had seen Mike’s cock, but they all agreed he knew how to use it. And it had been a very long time since Ginny had seen any action in the bedroom. She gestured to his briefs. “You going to take those off?”

Mike shook his head. “Not yet. But yours have to go.” He put one knee on the bed and bent over her, capturing her lips for a kiss. She chased his lips as he tried to pull away, her fingers tangling in his hair. He laughed a little. “Trust me, Gin.” His lips trailed down her throat, lingered at each breast long enough to drive her crazy and make her squirm, and then he continued down her body. His hands found her hips, hooking under the sides of her panties and dragging them down until he could pull them off. They were just as wet as she’d expected, and immediately the heavy, musky scent of her filled the air. His nostrils flared. 

Mike spread her knees, stepped between them and ran reverent hands up her thighs, avoiding where she wanted him most. He continued up her flat belly, cupped her breasts again, rolled and tugged her nipples until she moaned. Mike bent to kiss between her breasts, to slowly work his way down her belly. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered into her skin. She’d heard it before, from him even, but this felt far more intimate. More true.

Ginny couldn’t take much more. When she’d let herself wonder what sex with Mike Lawson might be like, she honestly thought it would be quick and hard. Against the door, clothes shoved aside, Mike sucking a hickey into her shoulder or panting filthy things into her ear while he fucked her into a blinding orgasm. Maybe later she’d ride him before he had to leave. Heat. Friction. Release.

This was slow torture. The tickle and rasp of his beard across skin so sensitive he wrung whimpers and gasps from her. The slight nip of teeth when she didn’t expect them making her arch into his big, solid body. Ginny was strong, she had stamina, she could take whatever he dished out. But this slow, unabashedly carnal exploration had laid her bare long before Mike stripped off her clothes.

She wasn’t going to beg, no matter how much she wanted to. No doubt he’d make it worth the blow to her pride, but Ginny hated to lose. 

His hands traced her thighs again, spreading them wide, and Ginny realized that she’d closed her eyes at some point. She opened them and found Mike kneeling between her legs. He dropped a kiss on the inside of her knee, looked up at her with an expression somehow both intense and affectionate, and draped her leg over his shoulder. She shuddered, spread wide to his gaze, and Ginny was suddenly glad that Evelyn had taken her on a spa day earlier that week. She didn’t like the bare look, but she spent enough time sweating in heavy uniforms that keeping that area neatly trimmed was a must. 

“If this is a dream,” he said, turning his head to rub his beard on her inner thigh, “don’t wake me up.” 

And Mike leaned in and started to lick her. Ginny arched into his mouth, moaning his name and a series of sharp curses as he stroked her other thigh and flicked her clit with his tongue. He didn’t just lap her in one spot like some guys, spear her with tongue like it was a cock, or mindlessly suck her clit no better than a sex toy. He noticed when she liked something, he backed off when she got too sensitive, he used a pair of thick fingers inside her and cupped her ass with one big hand to bring her closer to his face. The beard. Yeah, fine, she loved the beard, just soft enough that the rasp of it against her inner thighs and pussy felt amazing. 

Ginny’s hips rolled restlessly, seeking out that last bit of friction that would send her over the edge. “Need to come,” she panted. 

“You will,” he promised, reaching up with one hand to play with a nipple while his other hand worked her inside and out. 

But she didn’t come until Mike looked up at her, spearing her with his gaze. This wasn’t duty to him, something to warm her up so she’d fuck him. Mike Lawson was getting off on this, on getting his face wet with her, on tasting her and stroking her until she screamed. 

Ginny’s thighs started to shake uncontrollably. “Mike,” she gasped. 

He didn’t stop, and her hips snapped up and Ginny cried out, every muscle taut. He licked her through every shudder, every moan, until Ginny fell back to the bed, her legs suddenly too weak to hold her up. 

Mike pulled his fingers out of her slowly, trailed his hand down her belly, and took her leg off his shoulder. “You okay?” he asked with a smug grin and scrubbed a hand over his damp beard.

“Yeah,” Ginny breathed. “I’ll be able to move soon. Maybe.” 

He laughed, but Ginny didn’t mind. She hadn’t come that hard in years. Sweat was cooling on her chest, and her thighs were slick. The room stank of sex, and Mike was still in his underwear. 

Except he wasn’t. Ginny’s breath caught in her chest. Mike had pulled off his underwear while she came down from her orgasm, and he stood between her legs with a condom wrapper in his hand. His cock jutted out from his groin, dark and wet at the tip. She didn’t have that many guys to compare him to, but he definitely looked big. Thick, like the rest of him. 

“My eyes are up here,” he said wryly, and Ginny would have blushed if she wasn’t still hot and flushed from her orgasm. 

“Hey,” she said, not sure what to say at this moment.  _ Fuck me _ seemed both obvious and crass, even though she was desperate for it. Almost desperate enough not to care what position they used, but she was craving him. The hot, heavy weight of Mike on her body, his breath on her face, hell his sweat mingling with hers sounded good to her. She wanted to wrap her legs around him, to thrust up to meet him as he pounded into her. Ginny dragged herself up the bed, leaving her legs parted. “Come here.” 

It couldn’t have been more than half an hour since he’d said the same thing to her, but now they were naked and Mike was putting on a condom and prowling up the bed to cover her with his body. “That’s better,” she said with a hum of approval, wrapping her arms around his back. His cock was nestled between her legs, the head teasing over her clit as he lazily moved his hips. 

“This is the part where I wake up, right?” Mike said with a nervous laugh, his hand brushing a long curl away from her face.

Ginny stretched up to kiss him, nipping his bottom lip and then soothing it with her tongue. “Mike Lawson, World Series champion. Not a dream, old man.”

Mike grimaced. “Could you not call me that right now?” 

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Lawson. What should I call you?” She skimmed her hands down his back to his tight, muscular ass. All that squatting might have wrecked his knees, but his ass looked and felt fantastic. She pulled him in tighter, increasing the friction between them. 

Mike groaned and buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. 

She turned her head, whispered in his ear. “Sweetheart?” She could feel his rumbling laugh. “Baby?” He shook his head and started to kiss up the side of her neck. On a whim, she added, “Captain?”

Mike stiffened, his body going hard and still, his cock twitching against her.

Ginny laughed. “We’ll come back to that one later.” Most MLB teams didn’t even have a captain, but Mike thrived in the role. She’d assumed part of Mike’s unease in Chicago had been returning to being just another player. That he might enjoy taking the lead in bed too wasn’t really a surprise. 

“You’re killing me here, Baker,” he groaned. 

“You’re the one teasing,” Ginny pointed out, planting her feet on the bed and thrusting up to change the angle between them. The head of his cock notched against her entrance. She could feel him hard and pulsing through the condom. If not for Mike’s colorful history, she’d ask him to take it off. She’d never fucked a guy bare, but with this one she wanted nothing between them. Maybe another time. 

Mike raised himself up on his elbows, looking down at her almost tenderly even though his breaths huffed out in a pant, sweat starting to collect at his hairline. His body was trembling above her, and Ginny wrapped her calves around his back. He pressed forward slowly, his broad head opening her, and paused there, just inside her. 

“God, you feel so good,” Ginny moaned. She flexed her thighs, trying to pull herself up onto his cock. 

Mike cursed under his breath and kissed her hard. “I’m trying not to hurt you.”

Of course, he was being careful and all she wanted was to be pinned to the mattress with Mike riding her hard. “You won’t.” A whine escaped her as Mike rocked into her another inch and tried to pull back but Ginny’s legs locked around him wouldn’t let him back out. He was big, definitely thicker than any man she’d been with before, but she’d never been this wet before either. She hissed in frustration. “Need you. Now.” She bit back the “please” that tried to escape her lips. “Lawson.” 

His eyes searched hers. A drop of sweat fell from his forehead and splashed on her shoulder. “You sure?”

Ginny nodded, swallowing hard, her hips thrusting up, her ass nearly off the mattress. Despite her earlier orgasm she could feel another starting to build. That was enough to make her swallow her pride. “Please, Mike. Please.” The words escaped on a gasp as he slipped deeper. 

Mike’s eyes were nearly black they were so dark, matching his tousled hair and his beard. He nodded, just once, and relief swept through her. Finally. Mike reached down and pulled one of her legs up higher on his back, opening her up more, and buried himself in a single sharp thrust.

Ginny cried out, louder than last time, so full of him, his mouth descending to cover hers. His fingers gripped the flesh around her knee almost painfully as he thrust with long, deep strokes. Mike. Her catcher, her captain, her friend. Surrounding her, possessing her. 

He pressed his forehead to hers, so close she couldn’t really see his face as she breathed in his urgent, panted words, telling her how he’d dreamed of this, how tight she felt, how beautiful she was, how he couldn’t stop wanting her, needing her when they were apart. Before long, his thrusts started to lose their rhythm, and she knew he was close. 

Ginny’s thighs were shaking again, this time from the effort of fucking him just as hard as he was fucking her. Her hands had been wandering his back, his shoulders, tangling in his hair, but she dragged one down his back, her blunt nails scoring his skin and making him bite out a curse, until she could clutch his ass again. Ginny ground herself against him, rubbing her clit against the base of his cock, the sound of them loud in the quiet room. Her hips circled, her back bowed, sweat rolled down the valley between her breasts.

“Come on, Gin. I wanna feel you come on my cock,” he groaned. 

Dirty talk hadn’t really been her thing before, but it was now. Ginny stretched up and captured his mouth with hers, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and grinding even harder into him. She’d been stuck right on the edge for what felt like forever, her breasts crushed against his chest, her pussy clamping down on his cock, every muscle drawn tight and her breath stalling as the pleasure stayed just beyond her reach. She growled in frustration and Mike shifted and shoved his hand between them, fingers sliding through the wetness around his cock and back up to roll her clit beneath two slick fingers. 

That was it. She bit his lip hard as she came, a strangled moan bursting from her lips. Ginny dragged air back into her starved lungs, her hips pumping against his fingers, her whole body shaking as Mike plunged deep and held there, her pussy spasming around his cock. She felt him swell inside her and start to pulse, Mike’s entire body taut and tense as he moaned into her mouth. 

His body relaxed, both of them settling heavily onto the bed, Ginny’s legs sliding down his sweat-slicked back, over his ass, until their legs were tangled together. His hand slipped out from between them, leaving a sticky trail up her body as he palmed her breast before finding her hand and lacing their fingers together. 

His face was pressed against the side of hers, his heart still beating wildly against her chest. “Am I too heavy?” he asked breathlessly.

Ginny shook her head. “No. Stay.” She held him close, their chests heaving with exertion. She was actually still seeing bright spots in her vision, and his cock twitched inside her as her hands moved restlessly over his skin. 

“I’m falling for you,” Mike whispered into her ear. 

Ginny’s hands stilled. “You sure?” She couldn’t help sounding incredulous. Men said stupid things in bed. She knew that. Trevor had blurted out that he loved her one night while she was blowing him.

Mike nodded a little. “Yeah. Been falling since you got back up on the mound.”

There was something oddly safe about talking this way, feeling the weight of him around her, his cock still half-hard inside her, smelling their sweat and their sex but not able to see his face. “I did have your poster on my wall.”

She could feel Mike’s grin. “I knew it.”

She huffed in exasperation. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.” He pressed a kiss to her neck and sighed happily. He squeezed her hand. “You scare the hell out of me.”

“Why?” If anything, Mike should scare her. He did, actually. Always had. She’d trusted him and he’d hurt her, more than once. He could crush her so easily and he had no idea. 

Mike shifted and his cock slipped out of her. She felt empty, cold where his body no longer warmed her. “Can’t get you out of my head. That hasn’t happened in a long time.”

Rachel’s name remained unspoken but they both knew it was there. He got up suddenly, padded around the bed to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, saving Ginny from having to respond. She’d never felt this connected to anyone. 

The sink started running in the bathroom, and Ginny shivered. She was still lying on top of the crumpled bedspread, and her heel kept slipping into the wet spot from when Mike went down on her. She gathered her shaky limbs and pulled the bedspread down, moving awkwardly to get under the covers.

Mike emerged from the bathroom and noticed she’d moved. He stopped halfway between the bathroom and the bed, more comfortable naked than she’d ever been, but something had changed in his eyes. His expression was guarded. “Do you want me to go?”

Ginny was so stunned by the question she didn’t answer at first.

He stumbled on. “If this is just sex for you, I get it. I didn’t mean to freak you out or push you.”

Was this what he was like with Rachel? Apologizing for his feelings, settling for someone who didn’t love him as much as he loved her? Tears pricked Ginny’s eyes, and she blinked them away before Mike could see and misinterpret them. She pulled back the bedspread at her side. “Come back to bed.”

The wariness in his eyes remained, but he got into the bed. Ginny curled up against his side, her head on his shoulder, his arm around her. He felt stiff and guarded.

“So, the poster,” she started. 

“How old were you?” 

“Don’t interrupt. I was 14, and I didn’t put up your poster because I thought you were hot.”

“I was,” he pointed out.

“Mike.” It was a warning, and she dug her nails into his chest to make her point. He was hot, but it wasn’t like that for her. “It was because I wanted to play with you. On the field. This isn’t some creepy hero worship thing.”

“I was your hero?” 

Ginny raised her head and smacked his chest to get his attention. “You’re my batterymate and my friend, Lawson.”

His brows drew down forbiddingly as he frowned. “I don’t want to be your friend, Ginny.”

She could tell he’d used her first name deliberately. Not a nickname, not her last name. He’d never called her Ginny until the night they kissed. “Well, tough, because you’re one of my best friends. But I also want to ride you and I don’t want anyone else to ride you.” She was babbling a little now, but it was after 4 a.m., she was exhausted, and the big naked dope beside her was scrambling her brain.

He turned toward her a little, and Ginny could feel his cock starting to stir against her hip. “So you want to be together.”

Ginny bit her lip. “Maybe not publicly. Not at first. But yeah.” 

Mike seemed to think about that for a minute, then he hauled her up across him until she was straddling him. “So you want to be secret lovers,” he said, waggling his brows and smirking.

“And now you made it creepy.” She tried to sit up but Mike held her close.

He was grinning now, a sleepy smile to match the exhaustion in his eyes. He yawned, and thrust his hips up a little. His cock was still mostly soft. “I am definitely going to take you up on that offer to ride me later, but I need a little time. Maybe a couple hours of sleep.”

His yawn was contagious. She’d been up since 6 a.m. in San Diego the previous day, and two orgasms weren’t exactly helping her stay awake. Ginny let herself rest on him, sprawled across his warm body. Not precisely comfortable, but she was content as his hands drifted up and down her back. She yawned again. “Alright, champ. I know you need a lot of sleep at your age.”

Mike tapped her sharply on the butt. “You’re asking for it,” he grumbled. 

“And you’re all talk,” she countered, relaxing against him. 

In the morning, Ginny intended to show him exactly what a major league body could do to him. Maybe she’d wear the jersey while she did it. For now, though, she was just grateful to hold him and be held as they fell asleep.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long! Real life intervened.

Ginny Baker was a damned tornado. F-5, judging by how messy she'd made his house in one night. 

Shoes kicked off by the front door next to a backpack. Ginny’s contraband Cubs jersey draped over the back of the couch, a lacy gold bra on the cushions, and Mike's t-shirt on the floor. Empty beer bottles and a pizza box on the coffee table. 

He needed coffee. And a few hours of sleep. Then maybe he could deal with this mess. 

After a whirlwind week with a parade in Chicago and talk show appearances on both coasts, Mike had intended to go straight to sleep when his Uber dropped him off last night. But Ginny was waiting on his doorstep with pizza and beer, wearing an oversized hoodie to disguise the jersey underneath and the barely-there lingerie under that. It sounded like the beginning of a porn flick, and with any other woman waiting by his door it probably would have been. Mike had definitely been tempted to take Ginny straight to bed and unwrap her like the present she was, but there’d been something off about her that made him scrap that idea. 

Instead they’d gone inside and eaten dinner, talked and laughed and slowly the shadows in Ginny’s eyes disappeared. Maybe she’d wondered if Chicago was a mistake, or if he’d changed his mind. They'd talked and texted in the past week, but being together here in San Diego was different. Even the air between them felt charged, and Mike kept noticing all the little things he’d missed while he was gone. The way she played with her hair, how she rolled her eyes, how she sprawled when she sat down instead of posing to entice him, the sparkle in her eyes and her easy affection. When she’d straddled him on the couch after dinner, it’d felt like the most natural thing in the world to kiss her and wrap her up in his arms. 

Upstairs, Mike heard the shower turn on. Hot water pounding against his spine—and a wet, naked Ginny pressed to his front—sounded just about perfect right now. He might not be able to fuck her again so soon after their last round, but there were plenty of other things they could do. The jets in that shower could do more than massage his back. Suddenly coffee seemed unnecessary. Maybe he’d just go back upstairs and join her.

The doorbell buzzed. 

Damn.  Mike hurried to the door. It was probably UPS. The things he’d shipped back from Chicago should be arriving in the next couple of days. And the delivery guy wouldn't care that he was only wearing a pair of sweatpants.

It wasn't UPS. Blip stood on his front steps, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the morning glare. “Why aren't you answering your phone, Lawson?” He didn't wait for a response, pushing past Mike into the house while he kept talking. “Evelyn wants you to come over for dinner tonight, and I don’t think she’s going to take no for an answer.”

“Now’s not a good time,” Mike warned. Where the hell was his phone? He should find it before any more of his old teammates decided to stop by. 

“I know, man. I told her you just got back.” Blip stopped abruptly when he saw the clothes strewn around the living room. “You have a girl here. Damn, I thought the groupies were still mad at you for leaving.”

Mike shrugged. He wasn’t about to pretend Ginny was just a hook-up. He hadn’t actually had one of those since right after she joined the Padres. Even so, Mike had gotten two kiss-off texts the day he left, which was fine by him. He’d blocked every last one of those women’s numbers as soon as his flight landed in Chicago.

Blip slapped him on the back. “She's hot, right? I mean, the lingerie, the jersey? Hot.”

There was no way to answer that question without getting into trouble later. But Mike had never been stingy about giving his very-married friend details of his escapades with San Diego's never ending supply of willing ladies. He regretted that now. Blip would be horrified if he ever found out he was ogling Ginny’s bra. 

Blip’s brow creased, and he got that look that meant he was giving this situation way too much thought. “Not another stewardess, right? The last one was nuts.”

Mike grimaced. “No, not a stewardess.” The last flight attendant Mike had brought home had picked up a bat and started smashing things when he couldn’t remember her name after sex. Only the threat of tabloid headlines had stopped him from calling the police.  

Blip crossed his arms, and Mike immediately felt like a teenager caught sneaking through a girl’s window. “Amelia?” 

“No. Hell no.” Blip had actually liked Amelia for him despite the complications. So had Mike, and maybe if he'd never met Ginny, he and Amelia could have built something. But he had met Ginny. 

“Alright, I’m gonna go then, but I want details tonight. Come around six, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” Whatever it took to get Blip out of this house as soon as possible. Mike started herding him back toward the door.

“Lawson, that shower is huge. Come wash my back and I’ll wash—”

Blip and Mike both turned toward the husky voice coming from the upstairs hallway. If this was TV, right now there would be a record scratch sound effect, and the whole scene would freeze. Mike would turn toward the camera and tell the audience that he definitely should have kicked Blip out sooner, or just joined Ginny in the shower in the first place. 

But real life just kept barreling forward, and Ginny reached the top of the stairs, her sexy, playful smile freezing the instant she saw Blip. Her lips were still swollen, her hair piled in a haphazard bun, and the towel wrapped around her didn’t cover nearly enough skin. 

“Ginny.” Blip didn’t sound surprised so much as resigned.

She clutched the towel tighter as she stammered, “Um, hi, Blip.” Her nervous smile darted to Mike. 

The only way this could be more awkward was if Blip had actually walked in on them in bed. They’d talked about how, and when, to tell people, although Mike had the impression that Evelyn had figured it out without being told. Partial nudity hadn’t been part of the plan. “Take your shower, Baker. Blip and I need to talk.”

Ginny’s chin came up defiantly. “About me? No, I think I’ll stay right here.”

Mike gestured to her. “In a towel?” 

She shrugged. “Why not?”

Blip growled low in his throat. “Ginny, put on some damn clothes.”

“You’ve seen me in a towel about a million times,” she protested.

Blip wiped a hand over his face and muttered something under his breath that Mike didn’t quite catch. “Just do it. Please.”

Ginny blew out a hard breath. “Fine.” She made her way down the stairs and over to the couch, somehow managing to shrug into Mike’s flannel shirt without flashing them. She must have changed around guys thousands of times by now, but he’d never really appreciated how effortless Ginny made it look. The shirt was huge on her, the cuffs hanging over her hands and the hem nearly down to her knees. She rolled up the cuffs and flopped onto the couch, looking up at them with a mulish pout. “Better?”

Blip just rubbed his forehead as if he suddenly had a headache, and Mike had a flash of what Blip would be like as the father of teenagers. He turned his attention back to Mike. “I saw this coming, you know. I just hoped you’d be smart enough to leave her alone.”

Mike bristled at that. He wasn’t exactly the big bad wolf here, even if he looked the part. “I tried. Why do you think I left? It wasn’t all about the damned ring, Blip.”

“You should’ve tried harder,” Blip answered shortly.

“Why?” Ginny snapped. “I’m not a kid, Blip. And we’re not teammates anymore, so what’s your problem?”

Blip turned his glare on her. “My problem? Lawson is  _ married _ , Ginny.”

Ginny turned toward Mike, mouth agape. “I thought you were divorced.”

Mike shook his head. “We just need to sign the papers. She’s called me a few times this week. I’m sure she wants it done as much as I do.” He’d tried to drag it out at first hoping she’d change her mind, and then once the fury kicked in he didn’t want to give Rachel a penny of his earnings, especially when she’d started making noise about wanting a piece of the dealerships he’d owned before their marriage and a cut of his future earnings. Rachel was well-paid, and she’d fucked around on him. But in the last few months, he’d agreed to the last few things in dispute, just wanting to get it over with. 

Blip crossed his arms. “You sure about that? I heard she called off her wedding.”

Rachel wasn’t marrying the guy? The fucking pediatric cardiac surgeon, saving lives instead of playing a game for a living. Yeah, she’d thrown that in Mike’s face right at the end of their marriage. He expected to feel happy, vindicated. He felt… nothing. “I guess he wasn’t perfect, after all,” Mike said with only a trace of satisfaction. He didn’t really want Rachel to be unhappy, but he wasn’t going to lose sleep if she was. 

“That’s it?” Blip seemed incredulous. Ginny was watching him warily. 

“Yeah. That’s it.”

Blip’s eyes widened with surprise, but he recovered quickly. “Fine. Dinner’s at six. You’re both invited, obviously. Bring beer. No. Scotch. The good stuff. I’m going to need it.” 

Mike nodded. He was going to need a few drinks too, considering Blip was so obviously unhappy with the woman he treated like a little sister spending the night in Mike’s bed. Well, part of the night anyway. They’d made a lot of stops between the front door and the bed. 

Blip cast a quick nod toward Ginny and grumbled to himself all the way out the door. 

Mike locked it behind him and went back to Ginny. “You okay?”

Ginny shrugged. “I think I just woke up.”

It took Mike a second to understand what she meant. Blip’s reaction had been a rude awakening for both of them. “I told you this would be complicated,” he reminded her gently. 

Ginny’s capable hands plucked restlessly at his shirt, rubbing one of the buttons between her fingers. “I didn’t know you were still married.”

“Not for long, and it doesn’t change anything.” Mike reached out and touched her shoulder, wishing there wasn’t a layer of flannel between them even though seeing Ginny in his shirt satisfied a primitive part of him. 

“I’d understand if it did,” she said softly. Ginny wasn’t exactly Rachel’s biggest fan even before Mike explained why their marriage fell apart. But he’d admitted to her that he was still in love with Rachel, the night after Ginny’s disastrous Nike party and his breakup with Amelia. And while it felt like forever had passed since then, it had only been four months. 

Mike’s hand slid across her collarbone, inside the open collar of the shirt and up her throat, tipped her chin up until he could look right into her brown eyes, brimming with uncertainty. “My marriage is over.” He said it without hesitation, without wondering for even a moment if he was sure of that. Then he added teasingly, “There’s this gorgeous pitcher I can’t get out of my head.” 

Ginny let him pull her up from the couch and into his arms. “You know Jake Arrieta’s married, right?” she said with a laugh, her words muffled against his bare chest.

“Please. He’s got a wicked fastball, but he can’t match your sweet ass, Baker.” Mike snaked a hand down to squeeze her ass through his shirt, and remembered that she was bare under it. 

Ginny pressed back into his touch, still smiling. “I don’t know, Lawson, I’ve seen his Body Issue photos.”

Mike jerked her against him, making sure she felt every inch of his renewed interest against her belly. His lips touched her temple, then the shell of her ear as he slipped two hands under his shirt to cup her ass. “Come on, dirty girl. My shower has some jets you’re going to love.” 

He lifted her suddenly, and Ginny squeaked and locked her legs around his waist, but he didn’t miss how her smile slipped the moment she started to turn her face away from him. “You know Blip will come around, right?” 

Ginny nodded, but the little wrinkle between her eyes remained. “I know. But if he acted like that, what’s going to happen when we do go public?”

Mike’s knees protested her weight, reminding him of the time he’d spent on his knees, licking Ginny against the full-length windows in his bedroom. He relaxed his hold, letting Ginny slide down his body until her feet touched the floor. Her breath caught as his chest dragged the flannel shirt over her hardening nipples, and Mike couldn’t resist slipping his hand under the shirt and running his fingers lightly up her spine. 

“They’ll give us shit. And it’ll suck. But I don’t know how long we can keep this under wraps.” Mike hadn’t wanted to bring all this up yet, but they were going to have to talk about it sooner or later. 

“Why? No one caught on in Cleveland.” 

Mike made a face. “They were a little distracted, Gin. It’s only a matter of time before someone notices me turning women down and you not dancing with Livan anymore. Hell, my teammates all figured it out and they never even saw us together.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Why can’t I dance with Livan?” 

“Because every time he touches you I want to rip out his throat.” Mike wasn’t exaggerating. He knew the kid was doing it deliberately, pushing his buttons because he could. 

Her eyes went wide. Okay, so maybe he’d growled a little. 

To his surprise, Ginny grinned, mischievous and a little wicked. “So I shouldn’t invite him over for a threesome?”

Mike saw red. He knew she was teasing, and he didn’t care. Damn his knees. Damn his back. Mike bent and tossed Ginny over his shoulder, ignoring his body’s protests as he crossed the room and mounted the stairs. 

“Is that a no?” she asked, laughing a little breathlessly.

“Hell no,” he grunted, shifting her to free a hand to lightly swat her ass. Ginny squeaked in surprise. They reached the top of the stairs. “Fuck no,” he added for good measure, and set her on her feet. Ginny started to move down the hallway, but Mike crowded her against the wall and started unbuttoning her shirt, kissing and licking the exposed skin as he went. 

Ginny sighed and squirmed under his touch, her hand tugging on his dark hair to push his hot mouth to her breast. She tasted salty and musky and so damn good he licked his way over to suckle her other nipple. “I know you’ve done that,” she panted.

Mike pushed one leg between hers, his throbbing knee between her thighs. His shirt was only half unbuttoned, hanging off her arms, trapped between them, his sweatpants barely containing his hard cock. Heat and friction and the smell of her were all he could concentrate on. Conversation was beyond him. “Done what?”

Ginny dipped her head, nipped at his ear and whispered, “A threesome,” like someone might hear her if she said it any louder.

Mike’s breath stalled in his chest, his heart pounding until he got dizzy and he remembered to breathe again. He exhaled against her damp nipple and Ginny shuddered, grinding against his knee. “Yeah,” he admitted gruffly. He had a hell of a reputation, much of it deserved. He’d been with two girls plenty of times, including a pair of identical twins. In the minors, Mike had shared women with a teammate for a few months, pushing the boundaries of what Iowa farmgirls would do for a pair of ballplayers. He’d fucked more women than he could remember, done things he would have sworn only happened in porn, and at the time he’d felt like a sex god. But the idea of sharing Ginny with another man, or another woman, unleashed a dark fury he hadn’t even felt when Rachel admitted her affair. 

Mike stepped back, let himself soak in the sight of her for just a moment before taking her hand and pulling her behind him down the hall. Ginny’s lips were wet and swollen, her skin flushed, one hard and glistening nipple peeking out from the shirt tangled around her. He’d assumed, maybe wrongly, that she didn’t have a lot of sexual experience. But she’d been in the minors for three years before Amelia came into her life. Maybe Ginny had been just as wild as he was at that age. Ginny at eighteen, fresh faced and newly without her father’s watchful eye, would’ve had her pick of partners practically begging to explore her desires. 

They went through the bedroom, almost tripping over the bedspread tossed on the carpet, and into the bathroom. Mike dropped her hand long enough to turn on the shower, steam filling the room. Then he slid his hands up her stomach, over her breasts, and into her hair. He kissed her, soft and wet and deep. Ginny melted against him, and Mike moved one hand down to start working the remaining buttons free until his shirt dropped to the tile floor. Her hands were just as busy, clutching his back and then shoving down his pants until his erection was freed and he was just as naked as her. 

Mike picked her up again, not breaking loose from her lips, and walked under the spray with her. Ginny moaned as the hot water coursed over his back and shoulders, pooled between them, made them both slick and wet. He’d planned to turn Ginny to face the wall, brace her hands against the tiles, and push into her from behind while one of the jets he hadn’t turned on yet pulsed water directly onto her clit. He’d hadn’t brought a lot of women to his house, but every last one of them had loved that little trick. 

He still wanted to do that, but first he needed to her to know that this thing between them was different. Mike let her down again, the sweet friction of her body sliding over his cock nearly breaking him. He reached out blindly for the body wash on a shelf and rubbed a generous amount on his palms. Mike almost didn’t recognize his voice, roughened with lust, when he rested his slick hands on her waist and looked into Ginny’s eyes. “I’ll do anything you want, Gin, in bed and out. But I won’t share you. Ever.”

A smile curved Ginny’s delicious lips. “I don’t need anyone else.” She gave a nervous little laugh. “I’m easy. I’ve never really tried anything kinky. I’ve never even had sex in the shower.” 

Mike grinned as his hands roamed up her sides, slicked soap over her breasts and teased her nipples. “I think we can check that one off your list.” 

* * *

  
Until tonight, Mike had honestly thought that the most nerve-wracking moment of his life had been his final at-bat in the World Series. He was absolutely wrong, because walking into the Padres Christmas party with Ginny at his side was much worse. 

They’d already talked to Oscar and Al and the publicity team, but tonight’s party was their coming out not only to their teammates and the rest of the front office, but also the local media. The beat writers and local sports anchors who covered the team had all been invited, several of them bringing along photographers and cameramen. After tonight, there would be no going back. 

Mike saw the appreciative looks Ginny got from the men, the jealousy in the eyes of some of the women. None of that had anything to do with him. Ginny Baker was gorgeous. Drop-dead, heart-stoppingly beautiful in a short, coppery gown and heels that she’d had to practice walking in earlier. She hadn’t gotten much practice, though, because the sight of her crossing his bedroom in a lacy bra and panty set and high heels had made Mike pull those panties right off her.

So her shoes had scratched up his back and they were late to the party. Whatever. They’d both needed a little release to cut the tension. 

“You ready?” she whispered in his ear.

“No, but I will be,” he answered as Livan Duarte strutted over to them, those obnoxious dimples on full display as he devoured Ginny with his eyes. Duarte’s shirt was open one button farther than it should be, his chunky gold chain showing along with a swath of deeply tanned, waxed hairless skin. 

Livan glanced at Mike. “Lawson, congrats on the ring.” He didn’t wait for a response before turning his attention back to Ginny. “ _Mamí_ ,  _ estas hecho una manguita_.”

Ginny’s brow wrinkled. “What?” 

Livan winked at her. “It means you’re beautiful.” 

Mike wasn’t fluent in Cuban slang, but based on the way Livan had said it, that little shit had just told her she was sexy as hell. Mike burned to put the kid in his place, but this was Ginny’s show. He’d promised to follow her lead. 

“Couldn’t let my date outshine me,” Ginny said with her own dimpled grin. She leaned against Mike, and he took the hint, possessively draping an arm around her waist. 

Livan’s grin faltered. “Your date?” 

Mike heard the sudden hush in the conversations immediately around them. They wouldn’t need to spread the word. In the next five minutes, this little exchange would make its way around the room. For once the rumor mill was doing him a favor. 

Ginny smiled a little shyly as she turned her head to look up at Mike. “I don’t know. Is date the right word, Lawson?”

Mike smiled back, and couldn’t resist twisting the knife a little. “I was leaning toward trophy boyfriend.” He glanced over at Livan, whose mouth was actually hanging open. Damn, that felt good.

Ginny slapped him playfully on the arm. “It’s not the Stanley Cup, Mike. You don’t get to bring it home.”

Mike shrugged and squeezed her a little tighter. If she wasn’t so uncomfortable with public displays of affection, he’d lean down and kiss her. 

He didn’t need to. When he let himself look at Livan again, the young catcher was still dumbstruck. Mike had never seen Duarte at a loss for words before, and it was deeply satisfying. Not as satisfying as knowing he would be taking the most beautiful woman in this room home tonight, but still pretty damn good. 

Finally, Livan seemed to shake off his stupor. He nodded curtly at Mike, that quick chin lift of acknowledgement that Mike had won the girl even if he wasn’t her batterymate anymore. “Damn, I guess Omar was right after all.”

“Omar?” Ginny asked, glancing around the room looking for the infielder.

Livan sipped his drink. “Robles said Lawson had a thing for you. Didn’t realize it was mutual.”

Ginny glanced up at Mike, the soft look in her eyes wiping away everything else in the room. He couldn’t have looked away if he tried. “Yeah, it’s mutual.” 

They’d only been together a few weeks, but it felt like they’d always been moving toward this from the moment they met. Maybe before. Mike wouldn’t have been ready for her earlier. After Rachel he’d been too fucked up to trust any woman. He’d needed time, needed to make even more mistakes before he was ready to try again. 

“Good to see you, Livan,” Mike said sincerely enough, but he was ready to move on. “We should make the rounds.” He’d missed these guys, and he needed to check in and make sure there were no hard feelings over his abrupt exit. 

They worked the room for the rest of the evening, sometimes together, sometimes apart. Mike always knew where she was, rescued her from Sal’s wife’s endless baby pictures and Charlie Graham’s lectures on benefits of bicycling. She smoothed the way when Sonny would barely talk to Mike, and helped him keep his cool when the  _ Union-Times _ beat writer asked him if the ring was worth turning his back on Padres fans. 

By the end of the night, Mike was exhausted and Ginny was dozing in the passenger seat as he drove them back to his place. So much for his plans to strip Ginny out of that dress and ravage her, but they could do that in the morning. Unlike most of the women who’d fallen into his bed over the last few years, Ginny stayed. Ginny made coffee and burned toast and occasionally woke him up by snort-laughing while watching TV in his bed. 

None of his plans had worked out the way he’d expected, but Mike wouldn’t change a thing. 


End file.
